A frozen and long wait
by Elein88
Summary: The awakening of Arthas as Lich King shuddered the body of Sylvanas from the depths of the Undercity. The time for revenge had come. What she had always been waiting for. Or ... maybe not? Were really the hatred and pain the only feelings that hid this lonely and torn heart, unable to beat?
1. The awakening

Of all the amazing stories that populate the universe of World of Warcraft, Arthas and Sylvanas are definitely my favourites.

This story is set at the beginning of the Lich King expansion, when Arthas wakes up from his lethargy and becomes the Lich King.

For those unfamiliar with the story, this story will attempt to explain the events of the past to make it more accessible for everyone, but those who already know it will appreciate in detail every memory ^ ^

This is a translation of my fic "Una larga y gélida espera" **/s/9237779/1/Una-g%C3%A9lida-y-larga-espera**

So I apologize in advance for the mistakes. I will be thankful for any advice or correction.

I hope enjoy it! Any review will be welcome!

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***~~ CHAPTER 1: THE AWAKENING ~~***

Something awoke inside Sylvanas that winter night, so cold and terrible as she had lived with the Scourge, obeying the orders of her executioner many years ago.

_He_ had awakened.

She could feel the ice cracking on the Lich King's icy throne as if were her own soul which was breaking in sharp fragments. After years hibernating beneath the icy land of Northrend, Arthas had awakened to continue with the evil plans he had left unfinished when his forces abandoned him.

Sylvanas had spent all those years planning her revenge. She'd gotten that a part of the army of undead from the Scourge leave the Lich King, to join her, and had settled in Undercity, in the remains of the grand fortress of Lordaeron, which once had been a happy and prosperous kingdom, ruled with wisdom, but it had fallen into the hands of the betrayal of their own prince.

The Curse of Frostmourne, that pitiless sword, had corrupted the mind and heart of Prince Arthas, wielding his arm to kill his own father, King Terenas, who received his son with pride when he returned from a dangerous mission entrusted to him to end one of the most fearsome enemies who had settled Azeroth: Scourge, a pest that was destroying the lives of all his subjects turning them in living corpses and monsters.

Sadly, the man who had returned wouldn't be Arthas Menethil any more, now was a Death Knight because death and destruction were all that he spread in his path. He massacred his own people and destroyed the home where he grew up under the orders of the powerful sword at which he had offered his own soul to give him the strength to save his people. However, the runeblade's plans were very different and it corrupted the mind of its miserable carrier to convince him that he should do just the opposite.

To achieve this spectacular blade, Arthas had been abandoned and betrayed by all he loved, everyone had turned their backs when he most needed them, supporting a pain greater than his own existence by doing what he thought was right in that moment of despair as he watched his people fell under a plague that could not be controlled. He traveled to the ends of the world, to the frozen lands of Northrend to get a power that would allow him to protect his people from enemies, and now this same power he had turned in the most cruel and relentless enemy who had faced ever, joining precisely to the rotten army that in principle intended to stop, gaining control of a crowd of soldiers who never die. The whims of fate had played with him, it had laughed at his efforts with its perverse irony, the curse of the sword had consumed and transformed his soul, but now none of that mattered to Arthas, the hissing sound of his Runeblade through to their enemies and the cries of agony of their victims when they fell at the hands of his emaciated and sickly army were all that made sense to him. He couldn't feel anything except an insatiable thirst to control everything. All the painful memories of his life as a prince of Lordaeron were behind, buried in a place so deep they would never see the light.

Scourge's control belonged to a hidden and unknown called the Lich King, hidden in the cold and lonely lands of Northrend, a continent whose lands located in the north, lashed by an inhospitable and disproportionate cold that dispelled the idea of wanting explore its corners. The Lich King was able to talk to Arthas from there through the blade of Frostmourne. He had granted the power of the Scourge army to him to raze the world at will. Arthas had not questioned him why he had received such unstoppable gift and therefore he followed the orders of the Lich King and the damn Runeblade.

When Sylvanas escaped from the power of Arthas, she thought that the ruins of Lordaeron would be the ideal place to settle down, to build her revenge against this man from the forgotten rubble of the kingdom which he had destroyed.

Besides revenge against Arthas, who had mercilessly killed all the elves that lived next to Sylvanas, who had profaned her beloved and sacred land and had taken her life by giving her an inert and empty existence, now loaded with other great responsibility too. Sylvanas had become a queen of a, not inconsiderable, undead faction.

_The Forsaken._

So they called.

Sylvanas was proud of that title. Forsaken. Yes, they had forsaken to the Scourge, to their Lord Arthas, they had gotten rid of those damn chains that subjected them, the yoke of his power, the overwhelming control of Frostmourne, which did see that was due to the strong arm of Arthas, when this damn blade was actually who dominated the wearer at will, urging him to end more lives to appease its insatiable thirst. Frostmourne was always thirsty for new souls.

During those years, Sylvanas had ruled her undead subjects with respect, creating a faithful and united people that will obey her to beyond death, until their bones and rotting flesh could no longer move. They owed their freedom to her Lady and admired her by all she had endured.

This formidable elf had perished fighting with honor against the Death Knight who dared to laugh at the courage and determination of the people of Quel'Thalas, that magical place, full of purity, nature and protected by the relentless power of the Sunwell. Scourge destroyed not only each of those innocents who opposed the invasion, besides they polluted the Elrendar river with their decomposed corpses and desecrated land destruction leaving a mark on the ground where never again sprout life and had called the Dead Scar, leaving an indelible memory of that tragic day that was tinged with the blood and pain of their inhabitants.

But death was not the only punishment that Arthas had provided the warrior who came face to face with her destiny. He enjoyed torturing his enemies making them obey cruelly and soulless orders that tore their hearts, so he raised Sylvanas' body granting her the form of a banshee, thus obtaining a dangerous subjet who won't stop fighting for a moment to escape the excruciating control of the undesirable who given her death.

But revenge was a dish best served cold and Sylvanas had all eternity to bide his time.

For many years, Arthas remained asleep under the Frozen Throne in Northrend, recovering his fervent power, locked under the Lich King's helmet after having destroyed his previous carrier, Ner'zhul, the orc shaman who had betrayed nature attracted for the juicy powers of sorcery and had been turned into a miserable entity was named first _Lich King_. That entity had actually been created by the whim of the powerful demon Kil'jaeden, who delighted creating this damn existence and granting him the power of the Scourge, perfect puppets to spread plague and destroy everything that was beautiful and pure in the world . But that decrepit orc consumed by greed and power was destroyed by the unwavering hand of Arthas, absorbing what was left of him and finally becoming the legitimate ruler of Frostmourne, obtaining the title of the one he had served without questioning why.

Arthas won't be the Death Knight of the Lich King any more. Now _he_ was the new Lich King.

He had finally awakened from his lethargy. It was the moment that Sylvanas had been waiting to unleash the fury of revenge. Now Arthas had come out of hiding and could face him. However, instead of a feeling of happiness by being so close to her triumph, a sense of fear gripped her body.

She had forgotten what she felt linked to the existence of that Death Knight. A sudden and unexpected nostalgia wrapped remembering the painful moments she had endured under her command. Such was the agony of existence that had learned to accept the pain as her only companion. Losing any other human feeling, pain was the only thing pushing forward. As undead, she couln't feel anything else. She wasn't sleepy, hungry or tired. Her body floated into an unreal existence. At least there was no longer a banshee, a ghost floating tore her enemies with her shrill cry. When she escape from Arthas control, she recovered her old Elvish appearance. However, her rosy skin was now as gray as the ashes of their ancestors. Her blonde hair as golden as the sunlight had become silvery strands that reflected the influence of the moon. Her crystalline eyes, as sky blue as the rivers that crossed the valleys, had turned red as the heart of the mountains, like the blood of their fellows who had been spilt in battles that were doomed from the beginning. Frozen in that prison of time where her heart couldn't beat anymore. Her beautiful appearance, which all her subjects admired, because her body did not decompose like others, was the incessant scar reminded her every minute all that she was lost.

However, that lifeless body was a second chance. The chance to achieve everything in life had failed.

Sylvanas felt confused. Her determination had worn herself for years to plan carefully her revenge, to experiment a harm able to destroy her enemy, waiting for him to wake up. But now that she had recoverd the link, she was overwhelmed by his distant presence. She had forgotten what she felt under his control, under those cold eyes that subjected, under the wicked smile that spread across his face whenever he ordered one of his evil plans. Their existence only made sense to revenge of him. But once she archieve this, what would become of her? Would she achieve her rest or feel a deeper hole into her heart unable to beat?

Her existence was linked to Arthas. Her confronted souls were joined by a tie covered with thorns that drew them to each other relentlessly. Her agony was connected to the cursed of the Death Knight. So far, concentrated on her plans and her obligations, she hadn't realized she missed those painful moments with him.

Hatred and desire can walk together, often apart by a line too thin. Feelings so deep seldom exist separately. Hating your dearest person, desiring your worst enemy. The vagaries of the heart are often cruel. Sylvanas's heart was no different. But it was time to undergo those feelings. Continue to do all she could do, the only thing pushing forward her but without knowing where she was carried. Continue with her yearn _revenge._

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The Lich King opened his eyes after so long, with his sky blue and frozen eyes through the holes of the metal helmet. He felt a renewed and unstoppable energy through his body. He inhaled frigid air that permeated the air, grabbed the arms of the throne and stood feeling them contracted all his cramped muscles.

He had slept enough.

The world awaited his _return_.


	2. Memories beneath the storm

***~~~~ CAP 2: MEMORIES BENEATH THE STORM ~~~~***

Lady Jaina Proudmoore was in the highest part of her fortress in Theramore, silently watching the icy storm that lashed the city through the window.

She shivered inside, not because of the low temperature of the storm, her arcane tunic made of beautiful runic and lunar threads, designed by one of the best tailors in Stormwind, was sufficient to protect her from that damp and icy weather. No, the reason was different, one less earthly, one deeper. Not her body who trembled but her own soul.

The memories she believed forgotten, resurface again in her mind. A flame was awakened in her heart. But not a warm flame, welcoming and happy. No, rather a cold flame that crossed her from within, burning her with its icy touch. Those happy memories of her youth had become dark and painful, she didn't allowed herself to think of them often because an agony deeper than her existence came over her to remember every detail, making her feel helpless and guilty for not being able to save him of that destiny.

_Arthas_.

In her youth, Jaina Proudmoore had been a magician apprentice who had the opportunity to meet the Prince Arthas closely. They had been great friends, had shared happy and unexpected adventures, had perfectly understood each other from the moment they met, had been confident, and for a long period of time, also had been lovers. Jaina had fallen in love Arthas with all her heart, she had given him her body and soul under the blazing Harvest's Festival, promising to never leave him, never disown him.

Despite the heady sensation he felt during the times they spent together, Arthas wasn't ready to get engaged to her. He was still very young and that responsibility surpassed him, so he decided to break up that passionate relationship and continue their innocent friendship as each went about their business. Jaina felt her heart burst into pieces, but kept her face impassive and accepted the wishes of one whom she loved. Perhaps he was right, maybe it was better that way, everyone should concentrate on their duties. Arthas received the blessing of Light and trained hard as a paladin of the Order of the Silver Hand, under the command of the most noble and brave paladin, Uther Lightbringer and also instructed in state matters, preparing himself to someday rule his people with the same kindness, firmness and wisdom of his father, King Terenas. On the other hand, Jaina spent her days in Dalaran, the imposing city of magicians, under the protection of Antonidas, immersed in endless study sessions with ancient scrolls that contained all the secrets of the magic of Azeroth. She learned to control fire, to invoke elemental, to create ice storms, to control arcane magic, to transfigure her enemies into harmless vermins thanks to polymorph and teleport to distant places.

The next time the two met again, Arthas was a handsome man and mature further, covered with his paladin armor and his silver mace which reflected the will of Light whenever he invoked it. Jaina had become a decided woman who dominated with proud the magic she had learned under those walls. Both did not meet by chance, they were chosen to discover the mysterious plague that had afflicted the world in silence.

Neither could avoid their passionate feelings wake up and return to the surface, had been a long time but the deep connection between them had not diminished, but appeared to have strengthened. They decided to compromise when carried out the mission that had been entrusted.

That plague was what took her beloved. Gradually, they discovered the atrocious reality. Someone had infected wheat grains with that sinister plague. Whenever the villagers ate it, they became infected and had become into living corpses, rotting, joining the stranger undead army that began to ravage the Eastern Kingdoms. Arthas couldn't bear that his people were corrupted by this illness, having to fight against his own, now coverted into zombies without choice, dominated by demons who called themselves Lords of Terror, was too much for Arthas. Arthas became so obsessed with the idea of destroying this threat and protect his people, that he ended up losing himself.

The prince decided to raze the city of Straholme when he learned that the grain had been delivered completely in this place. The idea of killing men, women and innocent children tortured him, but he thought that was the only way to end the curse before it took effect and all become monsters. So he might end up with that threat once it spread so quickly. It would be the sacrifice of the people to safeguard the greater good, the safety of Azeroth. Jaina couldn't accept this decision and left him when he most needed her. Tortured her still remember those eyes full of sadness and despair begged her not to leave him alone in that painful and merciless quest he had imposed himself. Arthas made the wrong decision, but Jaina knew that he had done because at the time believed it was right, because he was willing to take on his conscience with all those horrible deaths if this way he could save the rest of his people. Again and again, Jaina wondered herself what would have happened if she had stayed with him, if she hadn't betrayed him, perhaps being his side could have prevented this dark curse consume his spirit transforming him into a Death Knight.

Jaina never be able to forgive herself, but everyone around implored her to do it, all were determined to ensure that his efforts would have been in vain, that would have ended murdered by his hand like everyone else and was no way to save him. But she didn't believe in such claims, her heart was determined to tell her that she could have helped her, that she was the only person he have heard. Although, it might be a lie created by herself for not facing reality, she couldn't bear the idea that Arthas had forgotten her, but now it was too late.

After that village's massacre, Arthas departed for the frozen lands of Northrend to slay Mal'ganis, the demon that had stood laughing at him and then controlling the power of the Scourge. There he met the existence of a powerful and unique runeblade, Frostmourne, and offered his soul to get its power and thus protect everything he loved. That fateful day, Light left him and was consumed by the curse that hung over this demonic sword. He ceased to be a Paladin to become a Death Knight. His spirit was corrupted, began to obey the orders of the Lich King, and he gained control of the Scourge's army. He joined his enemy after having given everything to try to destroy it. That fateful day, Arthas Menethil died forever, and with it, much of the heart of Jaina.

After getting the devastating and unlimited power Frostmourne, Arthas returned to the Eastern Kingdoms and there destroyed and annihilated everything he had fought to protect. He killed his own father Terenas, Uther, who had been his teacher and example to follow, Antonidas,the archmage master of the city of Dalaran. It destroyed the fortress of Lordaeron, profaned the Sunwell, massacred entire villages full of innocent people. Every time the dead bodies of the villagers fell at his feet, he stood them up as undead and therefore his army was becoming more and more powerful. No one could stand against him, his days of destruction seemed to have no end, world was completely convicted under his blade. Jaina was not able to deal with this new and sinister personality. She was debated between fleeing or attempting to talk to him, but no one allowed her to attempt such madness, since Arthas feelings were buried in a cold place in his heart and the curse of the Runeblade, which continued to swallow souls, won't let them resurface again. Instead, Jaina tried to evacuate as many people of this condemned land, using her power of teleportation, leading to the lands of Kalimdor, there would be safe from the threat, at least for now. And there she waited for the nightmare to end.

One day, when all seemed lost, when all the warriors capable of dealing with that unstoppable Death Knight had perished to swell the ranks of his army of undead or had fed with their sould that insatiable sword, something happened Lich King and Arthas began to lose his force. Sylvanas, an elf whom he had killed without mercy and forced her to obey, took this opportunity to revenge, freed a part of the Scourge and fought them against him. Arthas was lucky to escape alive from the rebellion. He fled to Northrend, dragging to the Lich King's Frozen Throne, and once there, merged with it, crushing the remnants of the orc shaman that gave life and he _waited_.

He had spent many years under that ice lethargy, all in Azeroth were believed to be safe from his dark and uncontrollable domain, so that night, Jaina felt a terrible shiver.

She knew he _was awake_.

That distant threat that she had tried to forget, was about to emerge, who knows how hard, to finish destroying a world that was still suffering from the ravages of his earlier attack.

And it isn't only the inhabitants of Azeroth who feared his return, the earth itself trembled under his presence. He had destroyed all the purity that had dared to cross his path. Blood stained the sunrises and sunsets polluted with the stench of rotten soldiers. Rivers had corrupted the purity of its waters. He had silenced the beautiful singing of birds and the wind between mountains with the hissing sound of soul-sucking sword. He had left a scar in the earth to remind the world of his cruelty, a lasting memory that will survive at any age of the earth, a black trail full of death and ashes where nothing would never sprout.

Despite her fear, loneliness, despair and the bitter pain of remembering those lips that she wouldn't prove any more, the arms wouldn't hug her again, the heart whose beats she wouldn't listen over her chest, Jaina made a promise to herself.

This time she _wouldn't_ flee.

This time she would face to face that man, although no longer stay a shadow of what he had been, although no feelings dwell in that frozen heart, although her efforts ended up in her own death, this time she wouln't give up. She would bring back Arthas or at least, she free him from the torment of his curse. She was determined, had come the opportunity to redeem herself for giving him back when he most needed her.

It was time to respond before her feelings and face her destiny.

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This concludes the introductory chapters.

I hope I have explain the past events for who haven't known the history of these characters, now it will begin the real adventure.

Thanks you very much to Darkness1st and Pedobee for their reviews and the people who have follow or favourite this story! :D It's makes me very fortunate. And also thanks to all the people who has spent their time reading these words :)

Greetings!


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